


Silver, Red, and Black

by knifepyjamas



Category: Hustle Cat
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, One Shot, Past Sexual Abuse, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-06
Updated: 2018-03-06
Packaged: 2019-03-27 20:34:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13888638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knifepyjamas/pseuds/knifepyjamas
Summary: Memories of Nacht sends Hayes into a panic attack, Graves comforts him.





	Silver, Red, and Black

The same hair. The same eyes. Hayes began to shake as he saw the man walk in and sit at a table. He didn't exactly look like Nacht, but Hayes would never be able to see silver without thinking of him. This man's eyes held a passive, serene expression, but they were Nacht's eyes.

Without even realizing what he was doing, Hayes scurried to the kitchen, disgust welling up inside him. Mason wasn't in there. Hayes wished she was, yet was also glad she wasn't. His shakey hands wrapped around the hilt of a steak knife. He pulled it quickly from it's block and shoved it into his jacket pocket. 

He was hyperventilating. His chest hurt. He felt sick. His eyes stung. His head ached.

Next thing he noticed, he was in Graves's apartment, standing in the open doorway. No one was in there either. His sweaty, trembling hands kept sliding off the doorknob as he tried to close the door. He stood there, shaking and crying.

Avery told him he was too nice to get creeps, and he trusted him, because he was Avery. He always trusted Avery. A choked sob forced itself from his throat, trying to escape the memory. It wasn't Avery's fault he lied. He didn't know about Nacht then.

Hayes rushed across the room and pulled open the bathroom door. He collapsed on the floor and pulled his knees to his chest. Everything hurt. He couldn't push away the memory.

Nacht's expression. His disgusting expression. The glint in his eyes and his sadistic smile. The chill of rust spreading from his hands to Hayes's chest. How close he was. How strong his grip was. Hayes rolled up his sleeves.

"You make magic with your voice, yeah? What d'ya suppose'd happen if I put my hand round your neck? Stuck a finger in your mouth?"

Pain. Blood dripped from the cuts lining his arms. It puddled on the white tile of the bathroom, staining. His sobs rang. His chest heaved. He wanted to fade away, disappear. Forgot Nacht ever existed.

He felt bad for ruining Graves's floor. He felt bad for using Mason's knife like this. Usually... usually he was at home when this happened. He never had to worry about how he was affecting other people. But now...

"Hayes?"

No. No, no, no. The knife slipped from his hands and clattered on the floor at the sound of Graves's voice. He was gonna get yelled at and fired and he'd feel even worse.

"Hayes, I'm worried." Graves's voice was soft, calming. Part of Hayes's panic began to subdue.

Slowly, the door opened. Concern and sympathy shone in Graves's eyes as he stared at the pitiful figure before him. He crouched down, and slowly rested a hand on his shoulder. Hayes uncertainly looked up at him, into his mismatched eyes. 

"Before I get you patched up, may I ask the cause of this... self inflicted torture?"

Hayes took an unsteady breath. Graves... Graves had been hurt by Nacht before. He'd... he'd understand, right? 

"N-nacht. He... looked like... he looked like Nacht."

Graves didn't ask who. He just stood and grabbed a first aid kit from the medicine cabinet. Gently, he cleaned and bandaged Hayes's arms. He left the bathroom, then returned a few seconds later with a sweater and pyjama pants. Carefully, he helped Hayes up.

"I'll leave it to you to change. Leave your dirty clothes on the sink. Don't worry about the floor." 

Graves smiled gently and left the bathroom. Once alone, Hayes smiled as well. The pants had cute little cats on them.

Once he left, he sat next to Graves at the breakfast bar. He had made them cinnamon toast. Hayes's pieces were on a plate painted with flowers. It was also cute.

"Th-thank you, Graves," he stuttered, a small smile on his face.

"Anything, my dear Hayes."

Hayes gently rested his head on Graves's shoulder, sighing in content as Graves's arms wrapped around him.


End file.
